"Where did you leave your horse?" snapped Madelene, when they'd nearly reached her own.
"In the lower stable at my father's old place,—over there."
"I'll help you mount and then get my horse," said he. "Do you wish to ride on without me?"
Mrs. Graves made a dissenting gesture.
"No, of course, I don't. I want you to come with me directly. I won't let you out of my sight so near that girl. I think it's perfectly outrageous! I somehow believe you lied to me about—"
"Keep your opinions to yourself," growled Frederick. "I've no wish to hear them."
Madelene was about to put her foot into the stirrup. Instead, she stood while fresh tears gathered under her lids.
"Frederick, you're cruel and awfully ugly to me," she said plaintively. "How can you do such things after all the money I've given you?"
Frederick expressed his feeling by a cynical little laugh.
"Perhaps if you didn't throw up your confounded benevolence so often, I might show more gratitude," he snapped back.